


for which of my bad parts didst thou first love me

by D20Owlbear



Series: We Defy Augury [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: AND Regular Horny, Anal Sex, Blasphemy, Blasphemy kink, Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Crowley cries before during and after sex, Crying During Sex, Emotionally Horny, He lets his emotions out through his eyes, Lazy Sex, M/M, Morning After, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Other, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rated E for the Inherent Eroticism of Being Beloved, a lot of Big Emotions™️, so goddamn SOFTE, the Height of Intimacy, the feelings, very minor dom/sub undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-20 03:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22942396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/D20Owlbear
Summary: PWP sequel toWe Defy Augury. You don't need to have read that to understand this, but it's certainly helpful.Crowley had fallen asleep sitting up, curled as small as he could manage against Aziraphale and still in his day clothes, but now Crowley found himself stretched out on his belly beneath soft tartan and flannel blankets, exactly as warm as he liked and in an equally warm set of grey cotton pajamas with an absurdly high thread count. And even better than that, a particular angel was pressed flush against his side, with his arm slung possessively across Crowley's lower back.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: We Defy Augury [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568623
Comments: 24
Kudos: 128
Collections: Break in Case of Emergency: Fluff and Love, MFU Palentine's Day Exchange





	for which of my bad parts didst thou first love me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MovesLikeBucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MovesLikeBucky/gifts).



They had fallen asleep like this; Crowley between Aziraphale’s arms and legs, curled up in the warmth of his angel’s love, his back pressed against Aziraphale’s chest. They woke up in decidedly different positions, having moved during the night. Or rather Crowley woke, as Aziraphale had only dozed for perhaps an hour before waking, refreshed, and rearranging them so that Crowley would wake without a crick in his neck.

He'd fallen asleep sitting up, curled as small as he could manage against Aziraphale and still in his day clothes, but now Crowley found himself stretched out on his belly beneath soft tartan and flannel blankets, exactly as warm as he liked and in an equally warm set of grey cotton pajamas with an absurdly high thread count. And even better than that, a particular angel was pressed flush against his side, with his arm slung possessively across Crowley's lower back.

Aziraphale stroked a hand gently down Crowley's back, smiling fondly as he began to stir.

The first and only time he had tried to leave the bed, just for a book and a spot of tea, Crowley had rolled into his belly, reaching for Aziraphale in his sleep. Unable to shake the guilt of having been the cause of the tear tracks dried on Crowley's cheeks, he'd slipped under the covers himself and quieted his demon's sad, sleeping noises with soothing strokes of his hair. As Crowley had settled, Aziraphale had placed his elbow on the mattress and rested his head on his hand, watching Crowley's corporation go through the motions of breathing, and his closed eyes flicker with dreams.

He hadn't been able to stop himself from pressing a kiss to Crowley's forehead and whispering gently, lovingly, "Dream of all the things you like best, my dear."

And so, that’s how Crowley woke up as the sun crept through the black-out curtains that hadn’t been fully drawn the night before. The sunlight was bothersome, but at least it warmed the cold, concrete room to something comfortable. He blearily blinked his eyes and smiled at the remnants of his dream in the still-hazy reality between sleep and wakefulness. To have Aziraphale in his bed seems too breathtakingly _good_ to be true, but his angel's touch is soft and warm. Everything he'd ever fantasized about, and more than he could have imagined. Demons weren’t meant to want things like gentle touches and kindness, nor were they meant to crave love or any other emotion that might come along, unless it fell under at least one of the seven sins.

But Crowley had always known he was rather terrible at being a demon. And, finally, now that they were on Their Own Side, it was safe to be what he was; too broken and inquisitive to be an angel and neither damaged nor hateful enough to be a demon. But that was alright, Crowley thought, because Aziraphale liked him like this. Probably. Or at least had no real objection to his mischief. He ignored the pang in his chest where he supposed his heart ought to be and prayed to a God who wouldn’t listen to him that Aziraphale wouldn’t tire of him either because he was too good of a demon, or too bad of one. Whichever might have been worse.

“Aziraphale–” Crowley breathed, the name catching on his lips and tumbling down from them like an impatient dragonfly ripping clean of the dead, dry husk of the nymph it used to be only to sit raw and dripping in the sun. Feelings like this were disgusting from him, ill-fitting, and yet seemed so natural to harbor about Aziraphale all at once. 

"Crowley," Aziraphale greeted him with a gentle murmur that felt like being welcomed home. Everything seemed to slot into place with a satisfying click. He closed his eyes and threw an arm over Aziraphale’s waist. Burying his face in the pillow, he shifted closer to the angel and pressed his too-long, too-lanky body against him. 

Aziraphale smiled down at the tips of Crowley’s ears turning slowly pink and smoothed his hand over the demon’s head. 

“My dear,” Aziraphale began in a soft whisper, as if he were afraid to break the stillness of the moment they had here, carrying over from the night before when they were both a bit broken and raw. “Would you look at me?”

And for all that Crowley was worth, which wasn’t much, he found it as impossible as ever to deny Aziraphale anything. Aziraphale had his belief, his food, his champagne and wine, and Crowley’s still-beating heart in his chest behind the cage of ribs he kept it in. So he grumbled, muffled into the pillow, and closed his eyes, turning his head to reveal his face to Aziraphale.

“No, my dear, I meant look at me.” Aziraphale corrected gently, reaching out with one wide, well-padded hand, calloused only in the ways a scholar’s would be, and cupped Crowley’s cheek. 

Crowley screwed his eyes shut in response for a brief moment, then breathed out the sort of sigh that sounded like his soul had left his body, and opened his eyes to look up at Aziraphale. Every jagged, shattered-glass feeling in Crowley, every ripped part of him that shone with tears he wouldn’t let himself cry anymore, every part of his despicable nature unsuited for the presence of the only good angel that had ever been in Heaven was on bright gold display for Aziraphale’s perusal.

“Oh,” Aziraphale murmured, finally laying down fully on the bed, gathering Crowley up in both arms and hugging him so close that the demon would be hard-pressed to tell where one of them ended and the other began. 

“Oh, my darling. _This_ is what you deserve.” Aziraphale cradled Crowley close to him, pressing their chests together. One arm slipped underneath Crowley to lay firm along his back, and the other raised up to touch his cheek softly with a thumb. Gently, slowly, Aziraphale pressed a kiss to Crowley’s lips, pulling the breath from his lungs like he’d been punched.

Crowley melted into his angel’s hold, into the kiss, and trembled finely through all his limbs as his heart vibrated in his chest. He could think of nothing except for the sheer amount of _love_ Aziraphale was pouring out into him. He felt filled to the brim, and gasped into the kiss as his cup runneth over with the joy and the love suffusing him. Every part of him burned like white-hot lightning, his skin tingled almost painfully where his clothes and the blankets touched him. He whined as Aziraphale broke the kiss and looked at him ( _wrecked, ruined with love, kiss-mussed and wholly unprepared for how weak this would all make him_ ) and panted heavily.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, eyes bright and pleased even as his mouth formed a small, perfect ‘o’ of surprise. “May I?” He asked, and Crowley had to pause for a second, uncertain what he was being asked, before realizing he didn’t care.

“Anything, angel, everything, whatever you like.” Crowley pleaded, not knowing exactly what he was begging for, but that anything Aziraphale asked of him could never be rotten work. Not to Crowley, not if it were for Aziraphale. The smile he got in return was beatific and made Crowley want to fall to his knees and sing _holy, holy, holy_ like he hadn’t since before the Earth was new. Crowley bit back a whimper as Azirapahle’s hands stroked down his sides, over the angled planes of his hips, before crossing over his pelvis and reaching down to press gently between his legs.

“My dear,” Aziraphale breathed, as if it were a prayer, as if Crowley was something to be thanking Her about. “My _beloved_.” At that Crowley did whine aloud, pathetic and needy, throwing his head to the side and attempting to bury his face once more in the pillow. This was mortifying, it was heart-stopping, it was everything he’d ever wanted all wrapped up and presented with a bow. And he had no idea how to handle any of it.

“Angel,” Crowley groaned, angling his body closer to press against the hand covering him and making Aziraphale chuckle under his breath. 

“I know, my dear, I know.” Aziraphale leaned in to buss a kiss to Crowley’s cheek, grinning all the while at how pliant and eager the demon beneath him had become. “Let me take care of you.” 

Crowley moaned and brought an arm up to cover his face, ashamed at how the thought of being taken care of so lovingly sent a zing of electricity down his spine and straight to his cock. His hips rocked of their own volition as Aziraphale’s lips moved down, laying kisses across Crowley’s jaw and down his neck, until he was keening softly at the bite marks and bruises being sucked into the skin of his collar and throat.

“Angel,” Crowley whispered, voice cracking and weak. “Angel, angel, angel,” he repeated, the chant growing in fervor with every new kiss bestowed upon his skin. He couldn’t help but writhe under Aziraphale’s hands and mouth, overcome with everything he had hoped for but had _known_ he could never have.

“Yes, my dear?” Aziraphale replied in a soft whisper that caressed the flesh it was spoken into. His breath was hot and humid, causing Crowley to flush everywhere he felt it. And further too, for good measure. 

Aziraphale didn’t wait for an answer though and instead kissed his way down Crowley’s chest. He paused for a few moments to lick and nip gently at the peaking nipples there, surrounded by coarse, red chest hair. Unwilling to keep himself from fully indulging in Crowley anymore, especially when he was laid out before him and flushed in so fetching a way, Aziraphale shifted his weight to pin Crowley’s hips with his own. Now that both hands were free to stroke and pet at the demon’s skin, Aziraphale took his sweet, delectable time mapping every inch of Crowley’s flesh. 

There was no tenderness too great for Aziraphale to reach for, and Crowley quickly fell to ruin under Aziraphale’s wandering hands. Carding through his hair and stroking the lines of his throat, only to be replaced with his tongue, following the planes of him to the notch at the base of his neck to dip in and taste him. Hands cupped his face, and strong, gentle thumbs brushed away the furrows in his brow and traced the bones of his cheeks. Tears welled up in Crowley’s eyes and he closed them to hold himself together, unwilling to cry again in the face of the only divinity that truly mattered to him anymore. 

This was, perhaps, the most intimate thing Crowley could conceive; Aziraphale’s hands on his face, wiping away his worries, and his own hands wrapped around supple wrists. It felt like flying, it felt like he’d never Fallen, it felt like he never had cause to worry again, right here in this moment, it felt like an eternity he would happily live in forever.

“Ang– Aziraphale!” Crowley’s voice trembled; and his arms trembled and his lips trembled and his thighs trembled, but he pushed himself up to his elbows to slowly and deliberately, press his lips to Aziraphale’s. This, surely, was what Heaven was meant to be. Nothing sterile or cold about this overflowing of all the love and joy and comfort and warmth Crowley could have ever thought about needing, or even wanting, since before the dawn of time. 

“You called, beloved?” Aziraphale replied with a breathy laugh, eyes bright and filled with his overflowing love. Every plane and curve of him radiated love both divine and earthly. Smiling in a way that often got him accused of being a bastard by Crowley, he rolled his hips against Crowley’s, sliding their matched set of carnal manifestations together and humming at the pleasurable sensation as Crowley choked on his tongue. 

“Yeah? Wait, what.” Crowley mumbled dizzily, caught in between disbelief and sinking headfirst into the joy and love and pleasure Aziraphale was lavishing on him and letting it drown him. 

“Is this alright, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked delicately, kissing the tip of Crowley’s nose with a small smile. “If you’d just like to stay like this, that’s fine too, my dear. But if you’re amenable, I’d like to continue. Fill you to overflowing, perhaps. Let me blow on thy garden, that its fragrance may spread abroad. Let me come into your garden and taste its choice fruits.” 

“Yes!” Crowley shot up, nearly hitting Aziraphale in the nose with his forehead if he hadn’t been rocking back at the same time, to sit on his heels between Crowley’s legs. 

“Eager, eager,” Aziraphale teased, leaning forward with a wide grin, hands holding Crowley firm at the waist. Aziraphale kissed him again, a chaste thing, just a press of lips until Crowley’s mouth parted on a happy sigh and Aziraphale licked into his mouth. Crowley sighed again, pitched higher and whining, struggling to move closer to Aziraphale and wrap his arms and legs around the angel. He wanted to press himself into Aziraphale’s skin and down past his ribs to coil around the warm, beating heart that felt so loud in Aziraphale’s breast. Or was that his own heart thundering? It was hard to tell.

The kiss deepened at the leisurely pace Aziraphale was setting, and Crowley thought wildly that this must be what being consumed felt like. Every piece of him in Aziraphale’s reach, every fragment of his soul bared for Aziraphale’s pleasure, all possible versions of himself dialed into the sensation of being wrapped around something so lovely and all-encompassing. Aziraphale’s tongue slid around his own and over his teeth, tasting all of him, teasing and encouraging Crowley to meet him with his own efforts. 

Crowley rose quickly to the challenge, even more so than he had before, until he was aching with desire and grinding his hips up against Aziraphale’s. 

Aziraphale gasped as if he hadn’t expected Crowley’s erection, though the pleased, smug smile Crowley could feel against his lips suggested otherwise. 

“My dear,” Aziraphale pulled back to whisper, his breathing only just above ragged, his voice only one hitched breath away from wanton. “Let me take care of you.” It was the sort of demand Crowley was used to hearing from Aziraphale. Phrased like a request, with an out provided if he truly weren’t willing. But the thing was, Crowley was always willing, no matter how it had hurt him in the past. And especially, in this case, there was nothing in Crowley that could ever be unwilling; or that would ever not fall for the pouting look on his angel’s face.

“Anytime, angel, if you like.” The words were out of his mouth before he could even properly consider them, but Crowley didn’t mind, not much. After last night, the haunted plea from Aziraphale “ _I wish you wouldn’t hurt yourself thinking to take care of me. Let me help take care of you, too_ ” echoed in his head. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Aziraphale that no, that he didn’t deserve it. Crowley supposed it didn’t matter if he deserved it, if he was unworthy of it, as long as Aziraphale wanted to. If Aziraphale liked, Crowley would let him do anything. Crowley very carefully didn’t think about the fact that this was the very definition of grace. 

“Yes,” Aziraphale replied with a thoughtful hum, “I do think I like.” His eyes dragged over Crowley’s lean form, and his thumbs dipped underneath the hem of the sleep shirt he’d miracled Crowley into the night before. The cotton was thin and soft, not unlike silk to the touch, as he teased the equally soft skin at Crowley’s hips with the pads of his fingers. Crowley shifted underneath Aziraphale, unsubtly straining for more touch, more Aziraphale, more of anything Aziraphale would give him. 

“If I’d like to put my hands on more of you, and my mouth too, would you like that, Crowley?” Aziraphale continued, eyes sparking with something like mischief. Crowley nodded breathlessly. “My dear, out loud, please. Use your words, darling.” 

“Yessss,” Crowley hissed, wriggling again trying to make Aziraphale hold him more tightly, grip his hips until he left bruises that would prove Crowley had been touched by his angel.

“Oh good,” Aziraphale smiled and leaned down once more to kiss Crowley’s lips. And then down his jaw, along his neck, and to his collar bones. Kissing and sucking marks into the skin along the planes of Crowley’s neck, Aziraphale savored Crowley like a good Campania red or a honey-and-spice pear tart.

Crowley gasped when he felt the first hint of Aziraphale’s teeth on his flesh, and moaned when that hint became a bite meant to claim. Crowley’s hands scrabbled for anything to hold onto; first in Aziraphale’s hair, and then the back of his shirt.

Even with the hands on his hips and the lips on his neck that cleared his mind of everything but _AziraphaleAziraphaleAziraphale_ , Crowley noticed, in a distant sort of way, that the angel wasn’t wearing his waistcoat or jacket.

Could he really be blamed for the high-pitched whine that escaped his throat at this realization?

With a smile befitting exactly the sort of bastard Aziraphale was, the sort Crowley loved him and couldn’t fault him for being, Aziraphale grabbed the hem of the sleep shirt and ripped it open. The buttons popped easily off the front and left Crowley’s torso completely bare except where the shirt fell at his sides. Crowley gasped in the back of his throat, shocked by the sudden coolness of the air. The smile on Aziraphale’s lips grew before he, quite devilishly, made his way down Crowley’s chest, leaving a trail of kisses and laving his tongue over Crowley’s nipples until the demon’s breath turned ragged. Aziraphale continued his slow slide down Crowley’s heated skin to the hem of the sleep pants.

Aziraphale looked up and made eye contact with Crowley, who sucked in a sharp breath to see the darkness of his eyes. There was barely a ring of shifting hazel left around the pupils for how large they’d grown. Crowley nodded jerkily, answering Aziraphale’s unspoken question, and bit back a moan when Aziraphale gently pulled down the silky soft fabric. It traveled, teasing, over his thighs and along the length of his desperately hard cock with excruciating languor.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, in a voice so tinted with rapture and awash with adoration that Crowley had last heard it at the foot of the Throne. And if that wasn't enough to make the inside of his head scream like a boiling kettle, all the blood left his head in a desperate rush southward. Crowley felt like he would be consumed and destroyed by the fire Aziraphale had ignited and left nestled in his chest, where it pulled the oxygen from his lungs to feed the growing inferno.

"Angel," Crowley choked out, desperate for air, sucked dry as kindling. He was catching fire by inches, he was holding himself together with razor wire and slipping.

Strong hands gripped Crowley's sides again, stroking firmly from his ribs to his hips, and the intensity of feeling subsided, breathed out on a slow sigh of relief. Crowley's eyes fluttered shut.

Aziraphale had him, and would never let him go. Love bloomed in his chest where the fire had been, and trust. He'd never felt so safe and at home.

Aziraphale's smile turned predatory, and Crowley had never before been so thrilled to feel like prey. He wanted Aziraphale to ravish him, consume and devour him; to take Crowley into himself until there was no space between them at all anymore. 

Then, Aziraphale’s mouth was on him again, kissing the planes of Crowley’s hips with his hands still gripping tightly. Cries of desire poured from Crowley’s lips and his spine arched from Aziraphale’s sweet lips laying searing kisses from the base of his cock to the tip. 

Locking eyes with Crowley, Aziraphale opened his mouth to lick delicately at his cock, humming in performative pleasure just the way he sighed and moaned at any other delicacy he could get his mouth on. Crowley twitched, unable to help himself. How utterly ruined he was, that he’d never be able to watch Aziraphale eat anything ever again without thinking of this moment, here and now, with Aziraphale doing exactly as he liked with Crowley’s body. 

Aziraphale took Crowley into his mouth, lips stretching delicately around the width, cheeks hollowing obscenely as he sucked Crowley down. Crowley's heart and lungs seized, his entire corporation caught in a perfect, frozen stillness. He wondered if he had died; he certainly felt like he'd been obliterated, broken down to nothing more than stardust and atoms.

Unable to tear his hungry gaze off Aziraphale, who was looking back at him like a man starved, Crowley moaned, emptying his lungs of the air trapped in them. It was the single most erotic thing Crowley had ever seen; Aziraphale watching him, expression overflowing with love and care, as his tongue flattened to lick up the length of Crowley's cock with every bob of his head.

The heat built up in Crowley’s veins and he couldn’t help the sheen of sweat that layered over his body, or the tightness of his hands in Aziraphale’s hair, or even how tightly his eyes screwed shut. He was vastly underprepared for how overwhelmed Aziraphale could make him. He wasn’t sure when he’d started to reach for Aziraphale and ended up with handfuls of his curls, but having something to hold onto helped to ground him. 

Just when he thought he’d tip over the edge Aziraphale wrapped his hands around Crowley’s wrists, pressing a thumb into the nerve and _gripping_ until Crowley’s hands unclenched. Aziraphale pinned his hands to the bed and Crowley bucked up into his mouth involuntarily, toppling over the edge into his climax. Aziraphale gently stroked his thumbs along the underside of his pinned wrists, acknowledgment and permission and love in every touch.

Crowley whined a soft, reedy sound as Aziraphale pulled off of him and let go of his wrists, but was quickly soothed by the warm heat of a soft body curling up next to him. Without bothering to open his eyes, Crowley threw an arm around Aziraphale’s waist and nuzzled into his shoulder with a sigh. In the shuffle to get comfortable, he felt a hardness against his hip and blinked open his eyes to look down.

“Oh, Angel,” Crowley murmured, raking his gaze up Aziraphale’s body with a lascivious smile. “You’re still interested.”

“No, no, dear boy, none of that.” Aziraphale huffed a laugh and lightly smacked at Crowley’s wandering hands just before they reached between his legs.

“Aaangelll,” Crowley whined, pressing his hip more firmly against Aziraphale’s cock. He rocked back and forth while reaching up to pluck at the bowtie with careful fingers, and pressing his lips to the underside of Aziraphale’s jaw. “You took care of me, now won’t you let me? It’s my turn to take _care_ of you.” Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s jaw tense and the angel’s hands back on his hips, and smiled at to know that he was surely giving in to the temptation Crowley posed.

He was, however, wrong. Aziraphale rolled them over, his hands unyielding, and settled between Crowley’s legs, restraining any movement Crowley might try to make. “That’s where you would be wrong, serpent.” Aziraphale began, tone light despite the sharp edge that sent a shiver down Crowley’s spine and made him swallow hard. “Remind me, my dear, how long were you trying to protect me from demons?”

When Crowley didn't answer promptly enough, Aziraphale leaned down to speak firmly into his ear. "Crowley," he warned, and nipped sharply at a bruise he'd left on Crowley's neck. 

“Seven months!" Crowley cried out. "Seven months, angel.” He repeated more quietly, taking in a shaky breath.

“Then no, I think it is still my turn, darling. Seven months, and then we’ll see where we’re at. But I expect there will be quite a bit of 'taking care of you' to do even in the future," Aziraphale’s voice gradually turned into a purr, low and hypnotizing. 

“More– after– that is, for seven– what?” Crowley stuttered, eyes wide as he stared up at Aziraphale, who only smiled back down, pleased to be the cause of Crowley’s state. He raised an eyebrow, bemused, as Crowley made a high pitched noise, not unlike a dog whistle, and hummed as he felt Crowley’s cock start to fill again.

“Bit quick,” Aziraphale murmured, delighted to feel the lingering bubbliness that gave away the use of an unintentional miracle. He leaned down to kiss along the underside of Crowley’s jaw, just as Crowley had done to him earlier, adding tongue and teeth until the demon was panting and shaking under him again. Crowley only groaned as Aziraphale rocked against him, only the layers of trousers and pants Aziraphale wore between them

“Bloody. Layers.” Crowley panted, hooking one of his legs around Aziraphale’s hips to grind up against him and snaking his hands up into white-blond curls to redirect Aziraphale into a kiss. 

“Ah, ah,” Aziraphale tutted, “My turn, Crowley.” And with nary a warning more, Aziraphale grabbed both of Crowley’s hands from his hair and restrained them with his own against the sheets on either side of Crowley’s shoulders. “If you _must_ grab something, hold onto this. And I expect you to keep them there, my dearest.”

Crowley felt the breath punch out of his lungs at the brazen command. He keened soundlessly, too fucking turned on to think straight. 

“Good boy.” Aziraphale praised, stroking the pads of his thumbs along the sensitive skin of Crowley’s inner wrists. “Very good, my dear, just like that. You listen so well for me, don’t you?” Crowley squirmed and blushed under the force of the love and awe in Aziraphale’s words and then preened a little when the angel’s eyes so obviously tracked how far his flush went, all the way down to his aching cock.

“Can I make you feel good, my love?” Aziraphale asked, his hand reaching down to tease the tip of Crowley’s cock with delicate touches of his fingertips. 

Crowley arched into the contact and let out a strangled shout, “Yes! Yes, angel, please, yes.” He couldn’t help but realize wildly that even though he’d just come, this might be the most aroused and desperate he’s ever been. “Aziraphale, fuck me, please, I need you to fuck me!”

“Oh,” Aziraphale replied breathlessly, wrapping his hand around Crowley’s cock and let him fuck up into his fist. “Is that what you want then, my dear boy? You want me seated in you, moving inside you? Would you like me to bend you in half, darling, so I can watch you unravel so prettily?” 

Crowley sobbed in response, repeating his wild pleas for Aziraphale to fuck him, until Aziraphale relented in his teasing and pulled away. Crowley nearly let go of his hold on the sheet to chase after his touch, but stopped himself at the last second. The pop of a plastic lid drowned out the sound of Crowley’s breathing, loud and obscene. And then Aziraphale was back, his lips on Crowley’s neck and his fingers sliding down his perineum, dripping with lube that must have come from Crowley’s end table. Crowley couldn't, at that moment, remember if he had ever actually owned any lube. But if he had, of course it would have been in the end table, where both sex toys and lube were supposed to be kept, right?

“Is that a yes, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked gently, fingers circling the ring of muscles around Crowley’s hole, teasing and faint. Not nearly enough pressure to slip inside him or stretch him. Crowley moaned wantonly, but Aziraphale didn’t penetrate him, no matter how much he wanted it. “Your words, Crowley, use them.” 

Crowley choked on his own tongue again before he managed, “Yes, bloody Heaven, yes, angel, I want you in me. I want you to fuck me and unmake me and make me again! _Please,_ angel _, have mercy_.” Aziraphale was a statue carved in granite. So completely still Crowley wondered if even his heart had stopped beating in his corporation.

Aziraphale’s finger was the first thing to move, pressing into Crowley, opening him up ever so slowly while Aziraphale watched with hungry eyes that seemed to burn like something beyond mortal ken.

The scent of ozone sparked on Crowley’s tongue. A hint of Aziraphale's divinity shone bright in his eyes, and the faint outline of a halo shimmered behind his angelic curls like a heat haze, threatening to flare into existence on the physical plane. 

In a blink, every trace of Aziraphale's holiness disappeared, drawn back into his corporeal form as if it hadn't been spilling from his seams only seconds ago. Aziraphale added another finger, with a croon that sounded enough like praise to make Crowley whimper for reasons other than the sweet stretch of two thick, slightly calloused fingers. Bending to kiss Crowley, Aziraphale swallowed every messy noise of pleasure made by Crowley at every agonizingly deft crook, every exquisitely slow plunge, of his fingers.

Crowley lost himself in the ebb and flow of Aziraphale’s fingers, floating on the way Aziraphale dragged pleasure from his body. Lighting up his nerves until Crowley felt like he was lying on a live wire and run through with electricity, held in its current and unable to do anything but take it. It felt like hours, like days, an eternity, before Aziraphale finally added a third finger. Stretching Crowley open with a satisfying sense of fullness, Aziraphale kept crooking his fingers, just enough to make Crowley beg for more while he left marks with his teeth and bruises in fingerprint patterns all across the demon's chest and down his sides.

Crowley could feel the twinge of every fresh bruise and thought, distantly, that he’d make sure they healed just as slowly as humans did normally.

He was babbling, Crowley knew, unable to keep his traitor mouth shut; pleading with Aziraphale to hurry up, to fuck him, to _blessed Heaven, please Aziraphale, please, put me out of my misery, Sat– Go– Aziraphale_ take care of me _you bastard_!

The fingers pulled free and Aziraphale leaned down, turning Crowley’s hands over to lace their fingers together. He braced his forearms on the bed, and showered Crowley's overheated face with kisses. “Yes, of course, my dear. You only need ask it of me, and I will lay you down in green pastures and take you beside still waters. I will fill you with every part of me until you are satisfied. I will embrace you as you wish until your soul settles, my darling. Anything you wish.”

Crowley moaned long and low as Aziraphale pressed into him, his hands clinging to Aziraphale’s, his eyes drifting closed and his mouth hanging open. Aziraphale had only just started with him and it felt like and he was already barely holding it together, rattling ominously like a cabinet of china after an earthquake. One wrong move could shatter him, here on the precipice of everything he’d ever wanted and more.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, just like he did over an especially good meal, “My dear, you feel so good.” Crowley moaned in response, hips canting up and cock twitching at the praise, as undirected as it was, and at the feeling of Aziraphale moving deeper and deeper inside him. 

Aziraphale drew away, adjusting for a better angle, and left Crowley’s hands with nothing but the sheets to cling to, this time scrabbling for purchase and something to hold onto by his waist. In spite of the nearly overwhelming urge to sit up and crawl into Aziraphale’s lap, to feel every inch of skin bared to him, Crowley did as he was first bidden and remained on his back, clutching uselessly at the sheets once more. He wanted to be good, just this once, to do what he was told and be rewarded for it. If it was for his angel, he’d happily do anything.

“Azir’phale,” Crowley mumbled, another pleasured cry slipping from his lips as Aziraphale grasped him by the hips and moved forward until he was nearly bent in half with one leg over Aziraphale’s shoulder and the other splayed wide across the other side of the bed. 

“Angel, fuck!” Crowley’s back arched up off the bed. At the new angle, Aziraphale's cock filled him perfectly. Every gentle movement of his hips dragged the thick head over the bundle of nerves that lit fireworks behind his eyes and tore ragged cries from his chest. 

“That’s it, my love,” Aziraphale soothed, his voice sweet and calming like one might use to calm a wild animal. It was entrancing. Aziraphale shifted his grip so that he had one arm around Crowley’s leg while the other crept up his torso to smooth over his chest and tweak at his nipples, reveling in the way his calculated touches could pull such sweet noises from Crowley. 

“You’re doing so well for me, Crowley, your hands haven’t moved a bit! And you make the loveliest noises I’ve ever heard in my life.” Aziraphale punctuated his words with short, quick thrusts that caused Crowley to throw his head back and moan. Crowley luxuriated in the praise, and in the shocks of pleasure echoing through his physical form. They shot through him, faster and faster, until it felt like the tides of the sea washing over him, endless and rhythmic, the most natural thing in the world. If Crowley was the sea then surely Aziraphale was the moon, deftly controlling him with soft, strong hands that grasped him and caressed him in equal measure, and all for love of him.

Crowley trembled, his thighs shaking as Aziraphale moved in him. His hands throbbed with the strength of his grip on the sheets. His heart stuttered in his chest. His hips shuddered in aborted movements when Aziraphale’s cockhead dragged over his prostate. From his lips moans dripped like honey, the desperate sounds of longing unleashed.

Aziraphale leaned over, never once losing his rhythm as he bent down to kiss Crowley soundly. Greedily, he swallowed Crowley’s noises and took them into himself. This time Crowley was more than eager to participate in the kiss, relishing the way Aziraphale’s breath hitched when he did something right, like coiling his tongue around Aziraphale’s, or coyly flicking the forked tips of it over the angel’s lips. He delighted in making Aziraphale's hips stutter out of rhythm.

This was all so that Aziraphale could take care of him, just like he’d asked, but the world would end in fire and ice before Crowley could ever stop catering to Aziraphale's pleasures and happiness.

So he levered himself up onto his elbows, and then his hands, with a smile, pressing up into Aziraphale, hands still tangled in the thin blanket just like he’d been asked. Like this, he could angle his head for a deeper kiss, and revel in how close and connected they were, how easy it was to feel Aziraphale's surprise with their bodies pressed together.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale scolded half-heartedly, unable to keep that smile Crowley loved so much from his lips or voice.

“Yess, Angel?” Crowley replied with a teasing hiss, and then nearly bit his tongue when Aziraphale moved both his hands back to Crowley’s hips and began to move inside him in earnest. The breath caught in his throat and he moaned loudly, back arching again as Aziraphale picked up speed and paid him for his malicious compliance with calculated ferocity. 

“Fuck fuck _fuck_ ,” Crowley chanted, whining and writhing as best he could, though he had played himself with his trick. Now with his weight held on wobbling arms and Aziraphale’s grip on his hips, he could barely move without falling onto his back again. Aziraphale shifted closer so slowly that Crowley hardly noticed until his back hit the headboard. His fingers were still firmly sunk into the sheets and feeling rather numb for how tightly he held on. But Aziraphale didn’t let up, kissing and biting down Crowley’s neck and across his shoulders and then back again. Reaching the top of Crowley’s neck, Aziraphale paused to nip at his earlobe and whisper filthy, sweet, heretical nothings.

“The feeling of you around me is divine,” he moaned breathlessly. “Fuck, Crowley, just like that, you’re so beautiful like this,” he cursed reverently. “How would you like me to cum inside you, my darling, fill you up until you spill down your gorgeous thighs, hm?” he suggested with lascivious glee. “I’d clean you up with my tongue until you came for me,” he promised eagerly. 

At the last, Crowley elegantly and eloquently responded, “Hnrkgm,” and then shouted wordlessly as Aziraphale reached between them to take Crowley’s cock in his hand.

Aziraphale’s hand was soft and warm except for the ring on his pinky. It was smooth and cool to the touch, and the shock of it against his oversensitive, overheated skin nearly made Crowley’s body jackknife in surprise. The angel cooed at him and Crowley could just _tell_ the bastard was smiling about it. But he couldn’t bring himself to care once the hand wrapped around him started to move. Aziraphale’s fingers were deft as they traced the glans with a firm pressure that made Crowley sob in pleasure as his cock jerked and leaked. A finger swept over the slit and Crowley nearly swallowed his tongue. Which he bit when Aziraphale brought it up to his mouth and licked his finger clean with a pleased hum. 

“Angel, please,” Crowley gasped raggedly, barely holding onto the threads of himself; feeling like he needed to beg, to ask for permission. Though for what _exactly_ he wasn’t sure. Permission to love, to be loved, to feel complete like this, to cum, to let his heart burst between his lungs with all these _feelings_ , “Please Angel, please, please–”

Aziraphale hushed him with a kiss and returned his hand to Crowley’s cock to stroke it leisurely. His torturously slow thrusts continued to drag over Crowley's prostate, without ever missing a beat He kissed his way up Crowley’s jaw to his ear and murmured “Whatever you like, my love, anything I can give to you.” Crowley whimpered in answer, and Aziraphale moved to nuzzle his nose into the crook of his jaw.

Struck by the loving intimacy of it, the overwhelming adoration, Crowley felt a howl building in his chest. The juxtaposition of Aziraphale’s hard, fast thrusts angled for Crowley’s pleasure and the languid hand stroking him with a firm pressure were suddenly too much for him. His climax crept up on him and then tore through him. His spine arched, curling toward Aziraphale to rest his head on a broad shoulder. Aziraphale thrust into him, far more erratically than before, a few more times before finding his own completion in Crowley’s body. The breathy moan that washed over Crowley's ear made him shiver.

Still lying between Crowley's legs, Aziraphale licked up the spend still coating his hand with a thoughtful hum, making Crowley moan and turn his head to his flushed face in a pillow. Of course Crowley cracked an eye open to watch, but the sex and all the _feelings_ had exhausted him. And that’s to say nothing of the previous night, when he’d been healing up from blessed blade wounds. 

“Angel?” Crowley groaned, settling back against the headboard, which was met with an inquisitive hum. “C’n I let go?” He slurred, more than happy to bask in the feeling of being wrapped up in Aziraphale and floating in the afterglow of orgasm. 

“Oh! Yes, of course, my dear.” Aziraphale replied, sounding scandalized he hadn’t thought to say anything about it, no matter that it hadn’t been very long at all. Aziraphale reached for Crowley's left hand to help untangle his fingers from their grip on the sheets. With gentle hands he rubbed life and warmth back into Crowley's aching and bloodless fingers. Then, with the same slow deliberateness, he reached over to pull Crowley’s other hand across his body and do the same. Wrapping an arm around the small of Crowley's back and gripping his hip with the other, Aziraphale maneuvered Crowley down from his near-sitting position to lie on his back on the soft mattress.

“I think I might like this,” Aziraphale said softly, smiling down at Crowley, his voice like an orison. “And, if you’ll let me, I think I’d like to take care of you quite a bit more, my beloved.” Crowley nodded in reply, blinking back tears once more. Both at the epithet and at the idea that Aziraphale might enjoy partaking in this closeness and intimacy with him more than just this once, that Aziraphale would want to please him for the enjoyment of it.

“‘f course, angel, anything you want. If I can give it to you, I will.” Crowley promised, quiet and vulnerable. He was entirely unprepared for Aziraphale to wrap his arms around his middle and crush him to his chest, trapping his arms against his sides with a soft and deliriously happy gasp. 

“Always, Crowley, I hope you know that. I’ll always want you.” Aziraphale’s voice lowered like it was a secret so intimate he couldn’t bear for anyone else to hear, no matter that there was no one else listening, “I’ll always love you.”

Barely containing himself at that confession, Crowley leaned up and tilted his head to catch Aziraphale’s lips in a kiss, slow and leisurely and more than happy to indulge in this sort of slothful love with the only creature in Heaven or Hell or on Earth that he might ever want to spend his immortal life with.

“Same,” Crowley mumbled against Aziraphale’s mouth. He was barely a poet when he was fully functioning, let alone when he was blown to pieces and laid to waste by all the force of his angel’s goodwill and joy. He felt so thoroughly ruined by the love in him and amplified by Aziraphale. He was a five-pound bag stuffed so full with twenty pounds of feelings that he was leaking at the edges. Or, at least, that’s what he told Aziraphale when the angel smiled and kissed the happy tears away from the corners of his eyes and cuddled him until neither could stand it anymore. (That took nearly a week of lying in bed, but it wasn’t like they had anywhere better to be than in each other’s arms, breathing together, resting in the still waters of love that had restored their souls.)

Crowley chuckled sleepily to himself and laid a gentle kiss on Aziraphale’s neck, happy to bury his face in the crook of his angel’s shoulder and cuddle for an eternity. “And, I pray thee now, tell me, for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?”

Aziraphale drew in a startled breath and Crowley couldn’t find it in himself to be offended by his surprise when he’d rather be delighted that he could surprise Aziraphale still.

“For them all together; which maintained so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?” Aziraphale answered with a pleased smile.

“‘Suffer love,’ a good epithet! I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee, though not against my will.” Crowley departed from the line at the end, kissing the underside of Aziraphale’s jaw.

“Undeterred by your heart, I think. Alas, poor heart! If you love for my sake, I will love for yours; for I will never be deterred by your love,” when he spoke, Aziraphale’s lips wobbled and his voice was so utterly fond and watery Crowley thought he might need to go lay down. He was already, but he had that same sort of weak-kneed feeling, so the sentiment stood. 

“Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.” Crowley croaked back, overcome once more with a love so intense that it cracked him open, letting all his affection spill from his skin. He could feel Aziraphale's blissful sigh to be awash in the feeling of his love, so close and fixed on him as it was.

“Perhaps, my dear, perhaps,” Aziraphale said agreeably. “But I do think we might be rather past the wooing stage. Though if you’d like, I’d happily turn my charms on you, in return for all those years you spent courting me.”

“Yeah, ‘s might be nice. Prob’ly.” Crowley smiled and wriggled his arms free to wrap around Aziraphale’s shoulders in return, happy and sated and so very pleased with this recent turn of events. “Love you, angel.”

“I love you too, you silly demon.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me in a couple of places!
> 
> Twitter: <https://twitter.com/Great_Ass_aFire>  
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> 
> All my graphics/photomanips are there plus you can find updates on anything if you send me an ask or message! I also take graphic/banner/emoji requests and writing prompts/requests.


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